


hum to me

by commanderaccoon



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-21 22:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3705905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commanderaccoon/pseuds/commanderaccoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is an art student. She's been stuck in a routine and is still lost about who she is. To help her out, her roommate Raven drags her to a party, where she meets that stupid music student as the DJ and is very confused by her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. come back when you can

**Author's Note:**

> This I think will be a slowburn fic, that will most likely turn into fluff. Includes substances.

_So, who am I_. Clarke couldn’t write anything for her 'artist intention'. She was stuck. Head pressed against the desk, she began pondering on who the fuck she could be. Actual paintings come from thoughts that just pop up, during the process. She begins doodling a figure,  the figure reminds her of yesterday’s accident with the bike lock, she draws the embarrassment, the sunken feeling that the key she had could be absolutely anywhere. But to write down what it means, is one hell of a struggle. She knows what she’s feeling, what she’s showing. _But what does this have to do with me_.  It has everything to do with her. This is why she choose Art instead of any of that writing entitled compositions. As she lays down her pen in angst, Raven bursts through.

“Figure anything out yet?” she says, throwing her bag to her bed. 

“Not at all. Just sketching. Trying to pull through but it isn’t putting itself into words.” Clarke replies, sighing, brushing her hair with her fingers. “Alright, I have an offer. You know Bellamy?”

How could she not. She’s been in this college for only a month and that guy has somehow pulled with through four years with C- grades and messy house parties. Octavia told her, Bellamy had that shack built when he was working near here during his high school summers. That ‘shack’ is more like a barn house with alcohol racks instead of hay stacks.

“So yeah, what about him?”

“He’s having a little gathering, every single punk and art student alike will be there. I mentioned you and he said why not so…”

“RAVEN. I told you, I need to focus. You can’t just wingman me to anyone who mentions art.” Obviously Raven knows Clarke wouldn’t pass this up, if she procrastinates she might as well have fun doing it. 

“Maybe you’ll find your muse.” Raven shouldn’t have said that. Clarke does’t need a muse. Last time there was a muse that muse destroyed her art, destroyed her way of thought. She has decided to never let herself let anyone become her muse. She’s her own muse. 

“Ugh.” Clarke tilts her screen down, stands up, pushes the chair and stands over Raven “Fine.”

—

Clarke woke up late for another mentor meeting, she was planning to skip it anyway. Her mother wants to be updated whether or not Clarke’s on the right track and surrounded by the best influenced dorm floor around. She was right. Her floor is rather peaceful, except for the two music students living next door. She’s never come face to face with either of them. She’s guessing she will at the barn house.

Finally tell them to take it down a notch or twenty, especially at 2 am. Yet, this quiet morning, she could hear piano keys and continued to lay there, listening.  She gets angry sometimes, especially when they test their tuning with the guitar plugged into the amp. Or when they have music studies and have to listen to unnecessarily loud heavy metal so they could mark all the notes right. Others don’t seem to mind, the hall director passed around ear plugs the first day of semester. Clarke wasn’t on top of her game then, and misplaced it within the week. Stealing them from Raven would be impossible, as she wears them 90% of the time to swat away any unnecessary socialising. 

There is a knock on the door. Clarke doesn’t care enough o stand up and tells to come in. A girl steps in, curly haired, with a white v-neck and skinny black jeans. Yet she looked sophisticated, organised. “Are you Raven?” the bold yet light voice asks. Clarke, suddenly aware of the awkward position she’s laying in, sits up. “No, that’s my roommate.” _Get your shit together Clarke, stop caring. Just another girl._ She looks away to seem more relaxed.

“Oh, could you mention to her that my laptop seems to be malfunctioning along with the software she installed and it hasn’t been working all night. If you could tell her to pop in next door, to just glance over it.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Clarke replies, nodding awkwardly and looking away from the rather intense eyes the girl had. It would be strange to hold eye contact for that long with someone she just met in the state she’s in. The unbrushed hair and sweat pants style must've left a wonderful impression, not to mention the awful haze of dust that has been floating around the room for a couple of days. Raven has been too busy in her workshop and Clarke has had her head bent over that artistic intention paper for two days straight. 

The girl licks her lip slightly, looking down, as she slowly backs away from the entrance and shuts the door.  This could’ve gone so much better. 

Tonight is the night Raven told her to meet her at the wood’s gate to go to the barn across the lake.  Sunday hasn’t been so weird in a while. 

—

Raven waves at her from across the road. The campus isn’t that far away from a forest. There is a small village across from it, and a lake just to the east. Bellamy’s shack is just at its bank. Clarke starts wondering how long has Raven been banging Bellamy, but decides not to mention it. As they walk, she suddenly remembers.

“Wait, Raven, a girl walked in today to ask about some software, to send you to help her out on the thing you installed.”

“You have to be more specific. I’ve installed the software on almost every laptop in our dorm. I’ve been avoiding that Murphy idiot though, no matter how much he asks for it..”

“She forgot to mention her name.”

“Describe me to her”

Clarke’s mind was blank. It is rare she becomes so self conscious around people that she forgets exactly how _they_ looked like. Usually people see her with hoodies double her size, with maybe some paint in her hair. She doesn’t care then but for some reason that one girl seemed like she deserved a better impression. She just shrugged, only mentioning the curls and the black jeans. 

“Right well that cuts down the potential list to like seven people. Maybe if you stay sober this time you’ll remember right?” Raven says sarcastically. Having someone who knows of your past isn’t the best way to get a fresh start in college.

The forest started getting dark, but she could hear the music not far from where they were. “A small gathering huh?” Clarke looks over at Raven, who is smiling like an idiot. “Just trying to get you laid, babe.”

Fat chance. Actually, rather fat chance. As she steps into the room, she’s realising what power Bellamy really has over hot people. Some of them are pretty stupid, but hell are they bursting with hormones and bad decisions. The music is very low, loud in the bass, pumping to a heart beat rhythm. Octavia falls into Clarke almost the moment she walks in.

“Enjoying the party?” she laughs.

“Just came” Clarke says as she studies faded out faces in the dark flashing crowd.

“Oh so did I.” Octavia comments as she points to her boyfriend. 

“I didn’t need to know any of that” 

Octavia lost focus. It’s hard to hear or see anything when all you can hear is your heartbeat amplified through the floor. The entire room is almost in sync. As the beat speeds up entire believes that it’s theirs. A soft, feminine voice layers over it, a melodic hum over it all, almost hypnotising to move aside it. It mutes Clarke’s worries. Her father, high school drama that seems solved until it isn’t, her ex- who's probably in a similar situation on the other side of the country. Gives up her individuality just for a little bit, for a moment or more, to be a part of that crowd. She wants to kick and scream for no reason, knowing that outside of this shitty shack time has stopped. 

Clarke is as much a frat boy as the Blakes. As soon as the music returns to a less heavy radio remixes, the room fills up with red solo cups and shitty bongs in every other corner. College ey. Someone passes a beer funnel to Clarke and the room starts echoing. “Chug, chug, chug..” From every direction Clarke can sense. _Beer isn’t even that good_ , she thinks as about half a litre is already in her system.

Raven collapses onto her in congratulation as she finished her funnel. She giggles and lets her hair down, throwing her hair band to Bellamy.

“Oh so you are Clarke?” he begins, his head looking down at her. She nods, wanting to release the beer she just drowned herself in. “Doing whatever the hell you want for the first time then?” Clarke spits on the floor in response. She makes eye contact and stares at him for a while

“You’re a bit of an idiot, grease ass”

“Oh yeah, I know. Though I disagree with the grease statement. You'll be more blind with another shot... “

“Mhmm. Right, so after making Raven unable to coordinate the way back-“

“Just have fun, princess.” He says as he walks off with the bear funnel, cheering for another volunteer. 

—

Clarke could her Raven’s name being called from the corner, and turns, still holding Raven up slightly.

The girl is barely recognisable. She is still sophisticated, but now with bloodshot eyes and headphones over her neck, her hair in small braids, tied up in a pony tail. Her eyelids are tinted darker, her tank top tightly against her chest, the arm tattoo catching Clarke’s eye. She’s walks over to her, squinting at Raven.

“Did I come up at a bad time?” her voice sounds hollow yet clear. Raven stands up in response, or attempts to at least. “Oh, Lexa, no I’m uhh fine.” She holds out her hand, the girl firmly shakes it and looks over at Clarke. “And you’re the girl in the bed.”

“You doing anything after this?” the alcohol gave Clarke confidence and stupidity. 

“Yeah, walking to the dorms. I’ve never seen you here, you look lost.” Lexa said. Clarke's previous plan of taking this girl out for a good time vanished.

Her absolutely cocky asshole attitude was definitely not what Clarke expected. The brunette tilted her head upwards, bit her lip and raised her eyebrow in an aggressive manner. Clarke decided to hold her glare, poking Raven to wake up so they could get out, “We’re just leaving.” S

he started to pull Raven away, which only ended with Raven winking at Lexa. Lexa stood in front of Clarke, “Hey, since we live on the same floor... you might as well wait for a minute and let me get my equipment so we can head out together. Much safer with someone slightly stoned than with two drunks.” She leaves, going up a staircase which leads to a booth. 

“Who does she think she is? Just trusting us to stay here and wait like someone beneath her?” Clarke asked Raven, filled with anger.Raven looks over at Clarke, moving her hair strands out of her face “She’s the DJ. We are literally beneath her. She’s up over there” she waves in the direction of the booth. Clarke was too late to leave without her, as she quickly comes around with her huge bag down the steps. This time she could see through the jeans, the muscles and a tattoo over her thigh where the hole in her jeans is. From this far away she couldn’t quite make anything of it, but instead she turned around and started walking. Knowing that Lexa's going to follow her anyway.

Lexa catches up the them and walks a couple of steps before Clarke and Raven. It is too dark and Clarke has literally never been on this path and why does she trust this cocky curly haired idiot where to lead her. “You sure you know where you’re going?” Clarke asks.

“Hopefully to Yale for my major” Lexa answers, smiling slightly.

“How do I know you aren’t leading us to another pit of barely legal adults?” Clarke realises Lexa is messing around and it pisses her off.

“Because I have been to Bellamy’s more than most and have memorised the short cut straight to our dorm. How long did it take you to get there?” 

Clarke knows it was about 40 minutes, but she lies “About thirty, but we were also chatting.”

“Right well I can make it in fifteen with chatting included, Clarke.”

“I think that’s impossible. We left ten minutes ago and I don’t recognise this place at all.”

“It’s rather hard when you spend all your time in your bed or in class.”

“You don’t know anything. Seriously, how high are you right now?”

“5’6 I believe.”

That’s when Clarke gave up trying to have a conversation. This girl was sassy, cocky, also educated and musically talented? It’s a joke. _I do not need this right now_ , she thought, glancing at Lexa’s shadowed figure. Her steps seemed wobbly as she stared at the ground, following in slow long footsteps after Lexa.

Raven holding onto Clarke’s belt as a lead, has been silent the entire walk. The hum was still stuck in Clarke’s head, and without thinking about it much, she started humming it. She smiled to herself, it was comforting, yet annoying.

Lexa turns around, smiling back slightly. The redness from her eyes was faded. She grabs onto the door handle as Clarke finally realises they are on their floor, in their dorm room, safe and quiet. 

“I’m glad you liked my song, Clarke”. This, unlike everything else that night, seemed genuine. Tiny little spark of some truth, gratitude. Clarke nods, finally calm and what seemed like happy. At least for that moment. She gave herself up to be an individual. To glance at Lexa and think, without censoring herself, _the mysterious gorgeous musician next door_. 


	2. how they should

 

Monty was laying on the floor of Clarke’s room, with his legs up against the closet, ferociously typing. He pouted his lip in concentration, eventhough it was rather difficult to concentrate in Clarke’s room. The beds were on opposite sides of the room, the two desks touching eachother in the middle, Clarke’s easel hovering new his head. Clarke hasn't written her intention yet, but decided to put that off for a later day. When she finishes her piece, that is. She’s been sketching for hours. Just creating an alternative portrait is also, not original enough, she’s sure everyone has gotten that idea at least once. “Going to draw rainbows then?” Monty looked up at her for some kind of reassurance she’s still safe after hours of intense work.

“No, I need something out of this world.”

“You’re out of this world, Griffin” shouted Raven from the shower. 

“Thanks babe. However, I do need something in this world. Something with a connotation. Connotation of a part of me. Can’t just draw myself as a galaxy, I’m not that complicated.” 

“Maybe a double connotation? The galaxy represents something that represents you?” Monty asked, after finishing a line of code.

“Monty, I get it Jasper leaves a lot of leftover dank but you can’t just get stoned all the time.” Monty nods, agreeing with her, as he resumes typing with force. 

Raven comes out of the shower, a sports bra and a towel on her hips. She adjusts her earring, attaching a metal decoration on her helix. She glances down at Clarke’s sketches, while Clarke suddenly becomes slightly red in the cheeks. “Don’t be embarrassed that you’re checking me out” smiled Raven, putting on a tank top and black trousers with large pockets.

“I’m not checking you out, I’m just really not proud of all the work I’ve done so far”

Raven flexes slightly, then picks up her nail polish and starts dripping her nails in dark red. “I’m heading over to Lexa’s to fix her laptop or whatever” Raven sees that she suddenly caught Clarke’s attention “Oh don't tell me you fancy her now?”

“No, it’s just… I thought you forgot about it” Clarke says, going back to her doodle of mushrooms on a cloud. It’s weird. Lexa’s an asshole, or a stoned asshole, the first impressions that she left on Clarke were confusing to deconstruct into something that made sense. “I’ll see you in English alright, lover boy!” Raven says as she exits the room. Clarke scoffs a little.

 

—

 

“Anya, I met this girl yesterday.”

“Ugh another?”

“No, it isn’t like that. She is just the first girl I’ve met here that just stood still, completely unaffected, even when I was being a total bitch” says Lexa, sounding unsure. The wall she’s built up is there for a reason. Clarke Griffin handled it without breaking a sweat. It confused Lexa, so much so she nearly rolled off her bed. The room had a bunk bed, to use up more space for the instruments and editing corner. A keyboard stood against the window, the stand for the music notes on the window sill, and Anya’s bass guitar, being hit with sunshine out the window. Anya had the top bunk, it’s where she could pretend she was in the skies and write poetry on the board she stuck on the ceiling. 

“She was intimidating. Not sober enough yet to write a song about it.”

“Oh, stop it with your song. I’m sure you’ll come around and get inspired somehow” Anya wanted to throw her poetry marker at Lexa for being a stupid musician. “Go back to your underground trap rock or whatever”.

“No, you’re a poet, you must understand-“

“Well _you_ ’re not. This is why we work together. But this is your personal project, you keep saying it is. I’ve accepted that, now you have to take on the burden of lyrics. I’d say my favourite piece of yours is the one you played last night. No lyrics no nothing.”

Lexa thought about it. No, now it’s different, now she needs to use the words. Obviously, there is a purpose. But there needs to be at least a phrase, something to leave the listeners with a message, not only a feeling. Words are powerful and it’s time Lexa grows up and faces that fear. _Words,_ made her scared. Putting things into words, like Costia loved to do. _No, not right now._ She looked down at the ash tray, filled with burnt cigarettes covered in Anya’s lipstick. It’s a bad habit. Bad habits aren’t inspiring. 

Lexa sighs desperately, in anger, stands up, hooks there jacket with her finger and as she’s about to open the door there’s a knock. Anya peeks over her edge, her highlights glowing under the sunlight as she backs away, almost hissing, from it because her safe place is the dark. Lexa smirks and opens the door. “Ah, Raven”

“Oh hello, you’re the one who called for a mechanic via Clarke?” 

“I almost forgot, yes. Clarke. Right” she says as she went to her desk and opened up her laptop and beckoned Raven to her. She types in her password and shows Raven the odd error. Raven nods and sits down “This might take around ten minutes to fix”.

“Right. Anya, check it out after she’s done, I need to go grab a coffee and go for a stroll.”

“Right, commander” Anya replies in a sarcastic tone. The door shuts, she exhales heavily, looking down. She leans on her door and looks up. _Room 507_ , she thinks. She adjusts her flannel and slowly leaves, with the number still in her thoughts.

 _What am I really trying to say?_ , she knows the sound of it, how intense it should feel. The feeling she is trying to put out. But not the message. _What is my message?_

She goes downstairs, leans her arm against the coffee machine and slips a coin into it, waiting patiently, hearing the noises, hoping they'd tell her something. She hears students in the lounge. They spoke of how the Nirvana shirt is now a cause for every stupid comment made by stood up pre-teen because people that actually listen to Nirvana don’t wear that damn shirt. Obviously this won’t inspire her. 

She grabs the coffee and heads towards the main door. She looks back, hearing something that catches her attention and then feels the coffee pop out of her hand. She looks back, at an infuriated Blake.

“What the actual fuck, dude?” shouts Octavia at Lexa who’s a little lost “This bag you just spilled coffee in had my lunch in it. Watch where you’re going, asshole.”

“I’m sorry, Octavia, I’ll pay for your loss, just show me your check- I will order another”. Lexa is genuinely sorry, yet keeps her cool nevertheless. Octavia throws her food delivery to a guy behind Lexa and rolls up her sleeves. “You’re so gonna get it.”

Lexa backs away, but then stumbles on a couple of people already standing there, thirsty for violence. “Is this really necessary.” Unfortunately, it was too late, a crowd assembled around them. Lexa makes eye contact with Octavia and she can tell that this isn’t for the coffee or the food, this is just to warm up some muscle. 

Which, to be fair, was a valid enough reason. She brings her thoughts away from music, from studies. This is the rough fighter she grew up to be in her neighbourhood, not the cocky and hidden person she’s become for her own good.

She stands strong, solid on the ground. If anyone should make the first move, it’s Octavia. Murphy is next to Lexa, shouting slurs in her direction. She glares at him and he doesn’t shut up. “You want to be in this too then, farm boy?” she asks him, almost politely inviting him to the ring. He charges in, throwing a punch in her shoulder. She’s pushed back, and Octavia suddenly realises this isn’t his fight and kicks his ankle and he collapses. Lexa holds one hand on her shoulder, in position to defend. Murphy, laying on the floor tries to go for a kick in her thigh, instead she backs away, looks at Octavia, who no longer cares either.

“Let’s go for a lunch then, my treat.” Lexa says, extending her arm to Octavia. 

She firmly shakes it, “Let’s go for something fast. I’m starving and I have Architecture theory to attend.”

—

Clarke is sitting in English early, waiting for Raven. She was supposed to be here about ten minutes ago, she even needed to look through Clarke’s notes. Clarke plugs in her laptop and starts typing up the poetry theory statement they were supposed to make up. Raven rushes through the door and laughs as she sees Clarke, she’s excited as a little child would be. Her best friend is nineteen now and she still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of adulthood yet. “Looks like cocky asshole Lexa rumbles up quite the crowd” says Raven, smacking her books on the desks, exactly one minute before the lesson’s meant to start.

“What?” Clarke is lost. It’s about Lexa. Again. She can’t keep avoiding her so easily ever since yesterday, what made her so special to stick around in Clarke’s head?

“Octavia just wanted to rumble someone up, so she wanted to knock out Lexa, but instead Murphy decided to be the one she saw laying on the floor and now basically Lexa and Octavia are buds.”

“Why do you think I care right now?” replied Clarke, as the teacher slowly walks in and the room quiets down. “Because, Octavia’s your friend, right? And if Lexa’s hers,” Clarke squints at the poor word choice of ‘hers’ “...then she might have to become ours” Raven is right. It will be even harder to avoid that confusing asshole of a musician. 

Raven’s smart at the end of the day. And if she’s smart enough she won't attempt to wingman Clarke to anyone in the near future because it ends with something just as confusing as her artistic intention.

—

What Clarke is really missing is adventure. Standing in front of the edge, breathing air, being aware of the privilege of it being that clean and filling. She sets her pencil on the canvas. Then she continues to think. Road trip, with her and Wells. Her hair all wavy from the wind coming from the edge of the pulled down window. Wells, sitting near her with the map covering almost the entire front two seats, folding and moving. 

The sounds of the paper. The sound of a heartbeat. The crowd. _Lexa. No, I do not need this right now._ She ignores the fact that her heartbeat sounded different now. She let her thoughts trail into the woods, with tall oak trees and her campfire in the middle of it all. The cracking of the wood. Wood. The wooden floor at Bellamy’s.

After she realises she can not do this right now, she stands up, looks at her canvas, and so far it doesn't look like anything that could give her any ideas.

Monty has been in her room the whole day, yet somehow stays on task, or at least she thinks he does. He went camping with her when he was younger, it isn’t a surprise they ended up in the same place. Their parents are were friends. “Monty?”

“Hm?” 

“Remember camp? The guitar, the beer?”

“Yeah, what about camp?”

“Just trying to imagine things, some things that could show me who I was, at least partially.”

“This isn’t about who you were Clarke, you need to look at whatever’s more recent. Think about who you are now, what things have happened to you now, who you’ve become because of them.” 

“That’s too deep Monty.” Though it made sense, completely, and Clarke was desperate. But she felt odd, having to think so deep into herself. She hasn’t let herself feel whatever boils up. Maybe its for the best.

“Isn’t art meant to be that way?” he replies, putting his headphones back on. He’s also an artist, in a way. He codes, plays the guitar and uses a skateboard as a way to travel. He’s an adventurer, just like Clarke. For now, he’s the only one who’s been okay with her grey state of mind. 

Though it definitely isn’t who she is, at least he understands that that who she has to be for now. For a little more. To grow she must change, or at least find something that pushes her on a new path. Maybe sticking with her high school friends wasn’t the wisest choice for a brand new start. She couldn’t do it alone though. Not everyone is lucky enough to have people stick to her through the strange days.

“Hey Clarke, I know what would be a good idea right now.” Monty looks like a kid who wants his mother to buy him that toy at the market. “An order to room 507 for maybe some fries and a burger?” She smiles, maybe leaving the room will fresh her up, and food would indeed be pretty good right now.

She puts her hair up in a bun, takes her wallet and steps over Monty’s head. She turns her door knob and closes the door behind her. 

She breathes out. She decides facing the world isn’t that inconvenient after all. Looking up, she reads the number. _Room 517._ She could hear the strums of a bass guitar. The door isn’t completely shut. There is a small trail of smoke coming front corner of the doorway. Clarke has to stop herself from peeking in. She does anyway.

It isn’t Lexa. It’s a brunette with golden highlights, a cigarette in her teeth and hands on the strings. She puts out the cigarette on her stool and throws it on the floor. She could see a couple on the carpet surrounding her. It looks destructive. The room is well lit, and her face is shadowed with her long straight hair. 

Then, she gets poked in the back.

“Clarke.” The voice says, “Nice to see you’re out of bed.” She turns around and regrets leaving her bed. This, however, sparks up her automatic flirt that Raven taught her. _I only wish you were on it_ , she thinks, as she smirks at Lexa. Doesn’t mean anything, right? She doesn’t know her well enough to actually say those things out loud, she might come off as strange, her and Raven do so without any sexual intention.

“Just got out for some food actually” nodded Clarke as she slowly starts walking away in another direction.

“Wait for a minute,” replies Lexa, peeking into her room and beckoning her roommate over. The roommate stands against the doorway, Lexa clears her throat and raises her chin up, in odd formality “Anya, this is Clarke, the next door neighbour. Clarke, Anya, my friend and partner in music.”

Oh she’s heard of Anya, the senior government law major who’s as friendly as an old cat can be. Anya stares at Clarke, scanning her from her head to toes back and forth “She’s the girl you told me about?” 

 _A girl Lexa told her about?_ Clarke glances at Lexa who swallows down and nods. Anya scoffs “Really?” looks around, sighs heavily and dips back into her room. This isn't the nicest impression she could've left on Anya, but from what she’s heard, she wouldn’t expect anything else. 

“Now that you've two met, I can proceed in figuring things out” 

“Figuring out what exactly?”

“How to stay equal or perhaps higher than you.” Clarke notes that Lexa is a stoner nerd. Her and Monty would make quite the pair.

“Oh, that won't happen. If you are trying to scare me or intimidate me like you do everyone else, it's a bad attempt. Your exterior is foolish. I’m starving, and you are wasting my time playing really strange games with someone who actually just wants to get you out of her head.”

The fact that Lexa's being an idiot enraged her. It doesn't make a difference, she doesn't need this right now. Clarke turns away, starts walking off, not in the mood to think about whatever that was and the last thing she hears from the girl is

“I’m glad you admitted I was stuck in your head, Clarke.”

Fucking. Cocky. Asshole. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments last chapter))  
> Sorry for being mean to Murphy don't worry I'll fix it.  
> All feedback is welcome <3


	3. not giving in

 

She laughed as she closed the door. Teasing Clarke was interesting, she was having fun for once. Anya perked an eyebrow, “Your crush seems really lame.”

Reminding herself that this isn’t weakness in any sort, but in fact plain amusement. A crush is an over-statement. Just ‘appealing’ for the selfish reason to be able to stand her ground against everyone, even Clarke. Especially Clarke.

Her legs cross in front of Anya, and the woman looks down upon her. The glistening in Lexa’s eyes was something Anya saw a long time ago. Not long forgotten, perhaps, more buried into her. Lexa is most honest with Anya, but there are things she hides from herself that she doesn’t notice. She sighs, gets up, takes out a small notebook and starts writing. Lexa knows better than to interrupt her.

But someone doesn’t.

There is a knock on the door, loud and unnecessary. 

Anya’s eyes fill with frustration as she’s about to head for the door, but Lexa rushes forward. She nudges Anya back into her love seat and opens the door. She’s thrown off to find Octavia Blake standing at her door with a flower crown in her hair.

“I was just with Lincoln and we decided to do something this weekend,” Lexa barely knew the girl really, and this conversation had already seemed tiresome enough as soon as she said ‘to do something’.

“Why exactly are you telling me this?” Lexa responds.

“Because you’re going.”

“Ah yeah I totally received the memo. Lexa will be attending, as she would to any event of her close friend Octavia.”

“Oh shu’p,” Octavia seemed like the one to turn up out of nowhere and create more adventures for everyone involved. Example 1, that fight Octavia started up for the hell of it. “We’ll be sitting in a small company in sweatpants, watching crappy made movies. We’ll meet there Friday evening, then sleep and have breakfast and we can part ways. Unless you want to join us for a quick trip with parachutes involved afterwards?”

She looks over over at Anya for approval and she mumbles in response “I’m going to my brother’s for the weekend anyway.” Lexa loved when she was in the room alone, but she does want time to relax and acquaintance herself with Octavia. The comforting home clothes she has too much pride to wear here, they call to mind the bed covers that draped themselves over Clarke in her bedroom. She brought her attention back to Octavia. “I’ll be there then.”

“I hope so, coffee girl.” she says as she sashays away from her door. 

 

—

 

 _Working on myself, for myself_. She’s glad she’s made herself think that way in the past week. Her feet up on her desk, Raven across from her, carefully pressing the ruler and tracing. It is the sixth time in the row she has puffed, erased it and started over. She’s a dork.

She comes back to her notes at the multiple different aspects that have been brought up during the last few days.  _Journey_ , she writes in cursive with black ink. Journey to where, to what, to whom, and when, for now isn’t important. She bursts it out to Raven who tilts her head up from intense sketching.

“Journey? Don’t Stop Believin’?” she asks, scrubbing led markings that somehow got onto her face.

“Not Glee. Not now. Not ever, remember the rule, Raven… not after season 3…” she sighs, continuing “Journey’s my focus. It’s where I’m starting with my piece, it’d be simple to do as well. Just describe the journey itself, then just metaphor that shit and boom. Identity statement done.”

“Is anyone else taking as long as you in this assignment?”

“We’ve been given another two weeks. In class we’re actually looking at Artist’s experiences and tracing it back to every brushstroke. Though it’s wrong. Most artists just start creating and then think it through in the process itself.”

“You need a citation for that controversial statement.” 

She groans in response, tapping with her pen on the paper. The word ‘Journey’ within itself meant a lot. An adventure with a destination, and that destination must be something Clarke’s missing. The focus of Journey is the process instead. She wishes the assignment wasn’t on when she’s somewhere in the middle of that trip. She yearned for whatever it was. 

Clarke was almost ready to dive back into her focus space, until a sudden a knock on the door. More like a drumming after fifteen seconds of ignoring it. Raven got up, armed herself with a ruler, preparing to slice whoever was interrupting the only time she was on a work streak. She opens the door and Bellamy peers in. 

“Hey there, Raven” his harsh voice was rather cheerful, enough so that the ruler didn’t end up in his throat. She invites him in without question, he sits down at her bed and glances at her neat designs. They mouth things to eachother, Raven disoriented, Bellamy trying to justify something. Clarke shatters the silence.

“Making yourself at home here then, Blake? I’m sure we have toothbrush you could borrow, maybe a towel too?” 

“I won’t be here long and if you don’t want me here, I could just leave. Though I’m not leaving without letting you guys on this weekend.”

“I’m not attending any more events at your shack nights.” Having guests that she isn’t quite friendly with gets under her skin.

“It’s just a few of us this time. We’re having a little relaxing movie night at our spare apartment, sweatpants n’ all…” It isn’t that easy to convince her. Raven glances at the boy with disappointment. “Also, free food” he points out.

She knows it’s the best choice she has if she wants a break from work. Getting to know Raven’s college friends closer, it would help a lot of strange situations that shouldn’t happen again. Relaxing with them will bring a sense of confidence. Which, she lacks too much to be a legal adult. 

Fake confidence is better than none at all. 

 _Some people happen to live with just that and sort themselves out just fine_ , she reckons.  _Lexa_. 

The discomfort returns, remembering herself in her dirty room. Normally she wouldn’t care, she never really has when it comes to opinions of others, Lexa shouldn’t be any different.  _That’s a fucking lie and you know it_ , she hears Lexa’s voice tell her. She wants to be surrounded by people she will develop comfort for. Finally, she beams at Bellamy.

He grins, looks over at Raven and high fives her. If this is another attempt to get her laid, she’ll snap someone. 

Raven raises her hand to his stubble, pinches his cheeks,

 “I knew the food would work!”

 

—

 

There she was, 4 o’clock bus, sitting next to Bellamy. Raven had classes off pretty much the entire day and went early. Bellamy broke the silence they’ve been sitting in for a couple of minutes.

“So… Griffin, what brought you in journaling class?” He was scrubbing his stuble too much. Clarke could relate to his slackness.

“I needed to choose something for that period, and it’s a free course. And you?” it was odd keeping up a conversation. Normally she’d just shut it off and proceed to wonder around in her own mind about pointless things. She might keep this going to avoid the conflict later on.

He hesitates, “I used to write diary entries about almost everything when I was younger. To be fair I still do. It’s a bit less personal now and more about capturing the moment, still a diary though. Don’t know why I’m admitting this to you.”

Frat boy Bellamy not such a jerk after all then. “I’m glad you did. You might as well tell me why you were so excited having me over at Octavia’s?”

He shrugs. She regrets asking. There is a place and time to relax and this could be one. Looking over her recent decisions, this can’t be much worse. They’ll distract her. She needs to be distracted from every messy aspect of her life. None of them have dirt on her. That’s how she knows she’ll be able to open up a little today.

Bellamy looks out the window, pokes Clarke and she starts getting up. Grateful that she’s out of the student spa bus on a Friday afternoon, she lets herself breathe. Bellamy gestures down the street and they march towards the small, compact houses. “This is the town our father lived in. Our mother and Octavia would spend it here. I would take up the shack. Work was close…” he leaves the rest unsaid. Octavia has mentioned her father only once or twice. Asking questions always seemed like an invasion of privacy. There was unresolved tension but it evaporates quickly. It goes for both Blakes.

Lincoln answers the door. He has Octavia’s floral scarf covering his chest, and nudges Bellamy when he bursts with a chuckle. Even with Lincoln’s tough exterior, it comes as no surprise that Octavia has made him a butler while she’s queen. The room is wide, with a wooden smooth floor. The love seat is already occupied by Raven, the other by Octavia, with a remote in her hands. Her large flannel resembles a man’s. It’s been two hours and they’ve already managed to switch clothes. 

“Brother, Clarke, Twilight or The Last Airbender? Raven and I can’t choose.”

Bellamy shrugs, puts down a packet of chips on the table and sits next to Raven. 

“Twilight. At least Kristen Stewart’s in it” mentioned Clarke, Octavia nodding and sticking out her tongue to Raven. Lincoln slides his way to Octavia, snuggling into her neck as she tugs at his ears and peppers kisses on his cheek. Clarke decides it’s absolutely gross but hard not to admire.

 “I agree!” he says as he makes his way to grab some drinks from the kitchen.

Raven is grumpier than usual. “Alright. Fine. I’ll put it on in a minute, hurry up, Mr. President” she calls to Lincoln.

A kick on the main door startled Clarke. Out of the corner she could see a plastic bag full of microwave popcorn packets.

“Just in time.” Octavia smirks and stands up to help set up the popcorn. 

 _Lexa_. Lexa waves at them and proceeds to the kitchen. Clarke manages a dark glance shot at Raven. She looks just as confused as Clarke.  _I do not need this right now_. The only sense she can feel is unease. A knot in her chest. Tightly pressing into the couch begging for something to bite down because she hasn’t felt angst since their last encounter. That asshole. That idiot with green, intense eyes and tattoos on her skin trying to intimidate her. 

 _I’m not intimidated_ , she calms herself down, nails in the couch seat,  _I’m just alert_. 

The microwave rings and Octavia flops on the large sofa with Lincoln. Lexa follows her, now directly holding Clarke’s eye. She sits in the only place she can. Next to the blonde. 

The movie starts rolling, and Lexa passes the bowl to Clarke. This is already confusing enough, but she grabs a handful and crunches a few. Her glances are quick, taking in one detail at a time. Her curls are separated to one side, her leather sweatpants actually look somewhat elaborate. The knot in her chest lets go. Until she’s stirred back into reality.

“It’s rude to stare, Clarke” she whispers, glancing back at her simpering. 

 

—

 

She didn’t know she’d be here. The set-up was weak, as Clarke looks more uncomfortable than she has the first time they met. This time, Lexa wishes it was different. Now that they will be forced to be around each other, she’d rather let her wall down a little. Yet, it was worth it, and once Clarke backs down, so will she. Lexa isn’t weak enough to make the first move. 

As she passes the bowl of popcorn back to Clarke, she shifts just slightly to the right. And again.

Clarke’s solid, irritated look is challenging to break. It almost softens every time the popcorn moves towards her. Lexa looks to the side and smiles because that’s a little dorky for red-blooded and gritty Clarke. Half way through the movie, they were within reach to accidentally brush knees. The bowl was empty, and so was the wine glass Clarke was fiddling with. The bottle standing on the floor was half empty.

“Anyone hungry?” says Octavia, turning off the tv as the credits rolled in. Everyone but Clarke headed towards the backdoor, setting up the barbecue. Clarke, with the wine bottle, leaves the couch, heading for the kitchen. Curiosity strikes Lexa. As she turns the corner, Clarke is against the counter, tilting her head and staring in her direction.

“I don’t even know if you’re gay” she says, spinning her glass, full again. She moves her hand through her hair and points at Lexa “I don’t like to stereotype but you look like you’d only have sex with girls.”

Clarke was not afraid to call a spade a spade. Lexa smiles, fixing her hair behind her ear, leaning against a perpendicular counter. “Yes, Clarke, I’m bad at hiding it, even if I was hiding it at all.” 

“Glad you didn’t.” She says, biting down her lips, stopping a smile. “Queer, artsy and lonely, if you couldn’t tell.” She mumbled, moving her hands down her torso. “This whole mysterious, attractive, cocky musician thing is getting old and it’s only been a week.” 

Lexa bites her lip. She didn’t realise it’s hard being arrogant and actually self-confident when someone else is already pulling you. Clarke moves along the counter and pulls at Lexa’s sweatshirt “That’s a very gay sweater.”

Raven clears her throat. “Ladies, I’d mention the meat is ready but I don’t know if you’re interested.” She laughs loudly as she exits again.

Lexa hasn’t been that red in a while. No one can break through her defences, she tries to keep composed. It’s easy teasing Clarke when she’s hiding a crush, but when it is that blunt and obvious Lexa cannot find a way out. Clarke’s hand was still ahold of Lexa’s shoulder, glancing at her lips once and Lexa couldn’t take it anymore. The modulated voice was now uptight

“I knew you would give in, Clarke” she attempts to put herself on the higher surface.

“I’m the one giving in?” Clarke raised her eyebrows like she has a habit of doing, pinching the collar of her sweater, brushing against her skin just enough for Lexa to swallow down whatever started coming up her bloodstream. 

 

—

 

“I’m the one giving in?” Clarke was becoming aware that Lexa got more and more vulnerable as she approached. Sitting through the movie, she couldn’t help but notice how much of an idiot Lexa really is. How easy it is for Clarke to notice her approaching, sure, looking at Lexa was an interesting hobby she developed. Apparently, it is very mutual.

Lexa’s frozen, her body completely pressed the counter. She could sense Lexa’s gaze on her as she strolled off. Burning into her like bullets on fire. It was probably nothing, just a burnt out cigarette on her flesh. 

The fact that she lingers onto it scares Clarke. Enough games as it is.  _I do not need this_ , she thinks,  _I do not need this right now_.

 

They look at her like she just got laid. Raven isn’t one to keep her mouth shut.

Bellamy attempts to high five her. Octavia comments on how if everyone else here is getting it, so should they, “It’s nothing to be ashamed off.” Lincoln covers his face in the floral scarf because he isn’t used to Octavia’s West Side out look on life. 

She knows they didn’t do anything, and seeing her approaching is a good sign to shut this idea down. But she doesn’t. Lexa’s face looks washed, her sleeves rolled up. She sits down next to Raven, who nudges and winks at her. 

Then she glances at Clarke, more peaceful than before. 

“You make quite the entrance” says Raven. Clarke nods and Lexa lets the cocky smile grow on her face before she’s hit with a tissue ball from Clarke. “Don’t let that get into your head.”

“I let everything into my head, Clarke” she responds. She spreads out the blunt wrap and rubs the pot into it, rolling it up and licking the corner just slightly. She spins the lighter and ignites the neat cigar. She puffs out and red faced Clarke turns to the grill,  _just a burnt out cigarette on her flesh_.

The glances between their friends indicate pride, surprise and amusement.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lincoln puppy is honestly something that I grew love for while writing this.  
> I'd love some discussion on which direction should the story continue in, I have a couple of things in mind and planned but all feedback is appreciated ))


	4. pointless curses, nonsense verses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa meet again, after obvious tension at Octavia's, and try to handle it as maturely as possible. Then they start to need eachother.

His knuckles were bruised. The image he always gave off as rough, every word about him was said with a growl at the end. Not in ‘Principles of Modern Chemistry’ class though, not with Clarke as his table mate. There was around three to five people in this dusty room at once. But, with his perfect intuition of their professor’s ignorant stereotyping, Murphy wore muscle tanks with skinny jeans, the only stuff he ever wears to this Tuesday night class. He sketched on his pale skin and Clarke, without much speech, as always had her notes open in case he needed to check up (and he almost every Tuesday did). 

As the teacher sits at his desk, mindlessly scrolling, they are all on their laptops taking notes from the presentation he so lazily sent a link to.

“He could’ve at least scribbled out the credits to match his fancy degree” he says.

“Now that would be a certain violation he isn’t risqué enough to take” she comments, tapping onto the next slide. She remembers the huge story a week ago where he got beat up by Octavia. She’s got her own dirt with Lexa, but she couldn’t help think about what might be his.

A bling on her phone alerts the teacher as he glares at her. 

 

Raven: grab a snack or i’ll break ur back

 

She remembers the back operation Raven complained about in high school and bursts out a small laugh.

Murphy also smiles, “Raven’s a little aggressive.” He’s allowed to glance at paper but not at her phone.

“So are you, I hear.”

“Oh give me a break that Lexa is a bitch anyway,” he begins, in a low tone, pretending to be discussing work when he makes eye contact with the professor. “Her and her whole music groupies too. They’ve fucked around with the sockets around my room so the electricity acts up every time I attempt to charge my laptop. My roommate thought it was me and he got his whole righteousness thing on and just left. He was my only source of money too.”

Clarke raises her eyebrow, wondering why the music students hated him since he got here. 

“Right, I accidentally broke one of their amps, but it was their party, their alcohol. All I do with my days is sit around eating leftovers like scum I always end up being.”

It was strange having him open up to her like that, she’s been hearing genuine sounds of irritation and distress. The mumbling of Lexa’s name with anger made Clarke want to use his nokia phone to stump him in the head, but resisted nevertheless. It wasn’t her place to get into Lexa’s business. All they have is four encounters with odd conclusions. Clarke suddenly feels strange counting.

“I broke Lexa’s amp. She’s after me and I’m after her and honestly it feels like high school all over again. I shouldn’t have rumbled her up, but I did, and her girlfriend came to her rescue.”

The fact that he assumed Octavia was her girlfriend was something she didn’t expect to feel a pierce in her head for. Clarke straightened her back, turning her head to Murphy, “Lexa’s a friend of mine, actually. I know she’s easy to dislike, especially with her whole being better than everyone else thing going on…” she had no idea where she was going with this, there is nothing she could use to stand up for her in anyway. 

“I’ve only just met her. I think you’re only fuelling more to her love for unnecessary antagonists in her life. I know she has enough of those.” She doesn’t know how she knows. Lexa just doesn’t have a clear goal, just like Clarke doesn’t have a clear journey. The only thing stopping her from dropping the arrogance is herself.

—

She hates seeing Lexa like this. Lexa weak again, Lexa shirtless in her crammed bottom bunk because obviously she forgets that Anya wakes up early Wednesdays and has to turn herself around to work away from those… _you know those_. The temptation to wake her up with her bass guitar straight to the face and tell her to put some clothes on is strong. 

“Stop, I’ll leave” she hears Lexa whimper in her sleep. She starts spinning around her bed, grabbing onto the covers. Within a minute, Lexa was awake, on the floor, panting quickly with only her boxers on. 

“Morning sunshine” says Anya with a very sarcastic tone, rolls her eyes so hard it looks as if she could spin the earth in the opposite way if she tried hard enough.

“Oh fuck what day is it?” she says, grabbing the blanket to cover her chest.

“Wednesday. Film Scoring 101 at 2 o’clock.” Anya is as grumpy as ever, having to see her best friends chest is definitely a mood setter for the day. She feels more like a personal assistant that has to share a room with her radical boss but at least she pays for the meals.

Lexa begins doing crunches near the door. She still hasn’t put her shirt on so the tired sigh from Anya comes as no surprise as she turns to the window in her crappy wooden stool. “After Film Scoring 101,” Lexa exhales heavily every time she goes up “Chord Progressions, then Ethics of Fiction… ah then ‘Shakespeare, Sex and Power’ - 8 o’clock.” Lexa, realising her schedule is completely packed, stands up and starts digging through the closet.

“Is that the one with the hot braids teacher?”

“Anya, stop fantasising about all the mid-30s English professors, you are graduating this year, you need to pick up your pace.”

“Exactly. You got one point straight on, I graduate this year so I can bang all the professors literally within a couple of months and you’re salty because of your mind is set on someone you can’t even play around with anymore.” 

Clarke was tough, too stubborn and too strong. Normally Lexa could be flirty and arrogant till everything fell into place, but not this time. _Not with Costia either_ , she starts to take out bits from her nightmare, immediately shutting them down. 

Clarke was that kind of person Lexa couldn’t help try to befriend, someone to trust in the way she does Anya. She realises it is most certainly not the same with her. Putting on her bra, fixing her strap, _the shoulder and collarbone where her hand was_ , and looking through her pile of clothes was enough to take her mind off everything for a moment.

Lexa calls her over and Anya turns around. Lexa is wearing a button up, boyfriend jeans and combat boots. Anya points at the combat boots and shakes her head. This is the morning ritual, and Anya is incredibly honest and helpful, and _even if she’s trying to bang every professor under 35 that likes literature, it doesn’t make her any less of my best friend_. A rush of gratitude rushes through her and she comes up to her bed with her bag on it. Standing next to the bed, she ruffles around Anya’s hair like she does to her, throwing her bag over her shoulder- slides to the door, shutting it on the way out.

—

It was around midday when Clarke was hit with inspiration in their crappy little coffee place near campus. Miller gives her the mug with the Vienna coffee, straightening out his neatly tied apron. She started out sketching little lines of a hand. 

She hates drawing hands but she has to, she sees it. The intensity of her face humours Jasper.

Jasper and Raven were working on their Modern Nuclear Chemistry assignment due in a couple of weeks. Raven wants to get it over with because she doesn’t know how long she can take Jasper whining on about his complicated relationship (that isn’t that complicated really).

“You know she’s a nice girl and I’m a nice guy, I don’t see why it puts her off so much!” he points at himself, his palm on his textbook as if he made some kind of discovery.

“Jasper, please, your fedora is too big for your head” says Raven, not taking her eyes off of her text. 

“You aren’t one of them are you, shaming men with feelings..” Jasper grumbles under his breath.

“No, the Blakes are an emotional bunch, I’m still friends with Bellamy” the word ‘friends’ sounded really fake to Clarke, but she keeps sketching out the shading of the nails on her sketch. “You’re just being a jerk because you’re just not her type, and neither are you hers. You need someone less extreme…” she imitates Clarke pretty darn well “You need something out of this world!” 

The deep layered sarcasm and plea for Jasper to stop dating doesn’t get through, so he assumes his position of daydreaming about someone that is pretty impossible to meet in Jasper’s current maturity.

“A flat white” Clarke hears from the cashier. The voice immediately turns her attention. She stares at Lexa, with her buttons all the way to her neck, realising everyone she’s been closer to recently, is a huge dork. She has an urge to come over and hit her in the jaw or something to make that jawline somewhat easier to get her eyes off of. 

Though it was too late, as Jasper was already coming up to hit on her. 

“So, you, ey” he begins, already making Lexa form a very cautious and invaded face. “I was just looking over and realised this might be our lucky day. You said ‘flat white’ and here I am, a flat-humoured white guy.”

She smiles at him, but it felt more like pity and so she looks back at the cashier.

“You are very pretty you know, do you mind if I get your number so we can discuss this when I don’t have 8 minutes to get to class?”

“Jasper. Just go already” says Clarke, coming up to them, sipping her coffee. She tries to act cool, then Lexa gives her a half-smirk and it could’ve been the weird lighting in this little coffee shop or Clarke’s cheeks redden. 

“You have a little bit of whipped cream on your lip, Clarke.” She was about to raise her finger to get it but quickly drops it and glances back at her coffee being made. She gulps down her blush and starts putting her hair up in a bun. The curls are all sticking out by the end but it just shows more of Lexa’s prominent features, that now have triggered Clarke’s urge to sketch. _This is nothing more_ , she convinces herself more, _just art_. 

—

She licks off the whipped cream herself. Lexa had realised this isn’t some true gay love scenario but indeed a run in to an acquaintance she knows nothing will ever happen with. Jasper was still standing behind them, oddly not rushing off to class like he was meant to. “He isn’t my type” Lexa says, glancing over at Jasper for a moment and his face starts to flood with embarrassment. 

“You’re my type” she smiles cockily towards Clarke. This is the first move she’s made. She didn’t know why she was making it.

“I picked up on that” she responds, with a light smirk, leaning on the counter. Raven is behind them making odd hand symbols to Jasper that Lexa decides to ignore. 

“Really, I’m pretty good at hiding it, usually.” This isn’t defeat. This is something she must admit to stand equal to Clarke. Becoming flustered like she did last time showed submissiveness. Something she isn’t, especially to Clarke.

Clarke passes Lexa’s coffee to her because she seems to much in her own head to do anything right. Clarke gulps down the last bit of coffee, waves at Raven who’s leaning and watching them, lingering on every word their flirting as if it was theatre. 

“I have to go now, I unfortunately have class to attend. Also,” she says as she places her finger tips on Lexa’s top button.

Lexa’s eyes widen, about to step back but wants to keep it there for just another second, Clarke dips one finger under her collar and uses the other hand to flip open her first button. Lexa heavy beat she could almost hear bursting her chest. Holding in her breath as Clarke’s hand stayed there for a second.

“You looked a little uncomfortable.”

She dares to pinch Lexa’s cheek as she walked off. Her challenges seemed difficult to breathe during. She pressed her coffee to her chest, leaving a bill and pushing the door out. 

Lexa can’t let herself do this again. She can’t dare to let it feel good and then let it hurt, not again. Not that soon. 

That would be the case for everyone, but _not you_. 

It scares Lexa, she freezes at the entrance, that this is her, letting Clarke break Lexa’s own promise _._

 

_—_

There was weakness in her breath, drained of everything by the end of the day. Wednesday’s were the worst, today’s coffee didn’t help because she waisted all her energy on watching Lexa completely lose it. Slamming the door behind her, she scoots downwards till she’s sitting against the door.

She’s flustered from thinking about it, she places her elbow on her knee and leans on it, unable to stop smiling. It’s completely dark in this room, the window’s cracked open, only moonlight outside. Her face however, was glowing. He lets down her hair and aims the hairband at sleeping Raven.

Instead she shoots for her lamp, and still hits Raven. Then, she hears a familiar tune played next door.

That fucking asshole.

She doesn’t bother to know what time it is, she knows most people are asleep and finds it really hard to believe that Lexa would really be such a selfish prick. Headphones are invented. And the door isn’t locked.

Clarke doesn’t knock. Lexa doesn’t act surprised when Clarke runs into her bedroom, closing the door with her foot. She tones down the music and faces her. There is a couple of candles in the corner of the room, just making it dim enough to see her face. She’s wearing a sleeveless top and shorts, something she hasn’t seen Lexa in and it worries her. She has a domestic vibe that makes it almost feel like home.

“So, dickhead, what were you doing playing music at 1 am?” she begins, not as frustrated suddenly.

“Hoping you’d come by.” The song plays in the background, and she can certainly remember hearing it. The beat of that song is still with her. That’s the beauty of it, in a way. It’s human music. “I’ve been stuck on lyrics. I need inspiration.”

Clarke automatically shoots her a strange look.

“No, not that, Clarke. I know you’re an artist. I need you to tell me what you see in me so I can write it as lyrics, that’s all I need.”

She sees confusion. She sees walls, barriers. Heartlessness and arrogance to make up for whatever is missing. Pressing against a radiator, a burning blunt and it’s sizzle once it goes out. A lack of trying, a lack of speech, closure and the grip hold on her throat before she’s about to break a heart. Lust, but not how she’d think it be. 

“Steps forward,” she begins. “Chained. Even if you did want to step forward you’re locked in. Speechlessness, and not in the beautiful way, as you are.” She pauses for a moment, Lexa hasn’t moved her eyes off her. She’s not losing her cool. They both know what they are feeling, there is no point shutting it out anymore.

“I guess there are two reasons you don’t talk much. Things, either they mean nothing to you, or it means everything. But what I see for you is different. The seconds between being in the void and the moment your eyes adjust to the darkness.”

Lexa nods, then starts taking notes. The writing goes on for a while, she didn’t ask for clarification or to repeat anything. She listened to every word like she needed too.

“I’m in the same fucking artist dirt hole… I’ve got a general idea but since we both want the same things, I’ll give you a moment to think” Clarke smiles, watching as Lexa’s eyes dart all around her, observing every detail. It feels like it did before. The cigarette being put out, but all over her body.

 She doesn’t know what to expect from her. There shouldn’t be any tension in the room, the task is professional. Yet seeing Lexa in her pyjamas, bags under her eyes and legs crossed makes it feel young. That mix confuses Clarke.

—

Lexa staring right at Clarke, attempts to look through it all. The piles and piles of Clarke that’s sitting in her room. 

Freshly washed blankets, morning haze, the fear of forgetting. She doesn’t see Clarke. She imagines her. Vanilla. Kettle whistling until you calm it down. Her warm embrace of inevitability.

“Love, but not how you thought it would be.” There are things that aren’t meant to be said, that aren’t of any use in an art piece, she reminds herself and keeps going. “The bitterness when someone’s skin crawls at the thought of your tongue between _her_ teeth. Fear to forget everything, to just free fall for a while and let yourself become who’s best for you. You easily see people, you piece them together.”

Clarke smiles, Lexa’s lips are impossible to glance off, she lingers to every motion, hearing the low scratchy voice that still holds the aura of domestic 2 am fridge runs as a teenager. 

“Don’t throw away letters, Clarke, mean everything to yourself. You don’t have to stay true, because who ever does is just putting on another mask. Just put the mask on that’s transparent. It’ll confuse the shit out of people but at least you lived.”

“Why don’t you then?”

And that is because, as she mentioned, _it means everything_. Having that mask is what Costia put on her. She’s over it now, but it’s still rubbing against her wrists like tight chains she’s too used to wearing. “Thank you, Clarke. You’ve opened another ruin that I’ll investigate when I’m alone.”

She doesn’t want Clarke to go. She wants her to stay, keep her scent in here, in this pathetic tobacco stained room. Clarke must’ve sensed that and laid in her bed. They observe each other for a minute or so, something they’ve refused each other for weeks. Clarke is also ‘professionally’ attired, grey leggings and a blue hoodie, like her eyes. It’s rather cold, and Lexa would prefer to have that hoodie over this shirt she’s been stressing in for hours. 

She hasn’t relaxed for days. “Clarke, I want to sleep.”

“Then do” she turns to her side and strokes the bedsheets in front of her. Just enough to fit two people. Lexa hasn’t slept with anyone since junior year of high school. She ties up her hair in a bun, keeping in mind she always faces the other side of the room, hesitates again. There is no reason why’d she’d sleep with Clarke, except maybe body heat. Everything else concerning Clarke is just a game, just a crush. _Something that will pass by_.

She sits down, grabs the corner of the cover and hides herself underneath. Clarke’s presence isn’t something she minds, though she expected to. She exhales, heavily, from everything she wasn’t relaxing from for hours on end. From the frequency she had to keep in her classes, with mornings, with Clarke’s high standards. 

Now Clarke’s here, slowly moving her arm in a more comfortable position, over Lexa’s waist. She has forgotten that. Clarke makes a questioning noise and Lexa nods. She could hear the blonde smile, as she pulled around her waist and pressed her face behind her neck. _This is what college friends do, cuddle, right?_ Lexa asks herself. There is a shiver down her spine as Clarke breathes out and buries her face in Lexa’s sensitive neck. Lexa is aware Clarke isn’t recognising her actions clearly, she does what comes naturally.

Exactly what Lexa told her. She exhales once more, after the initial surprise of it all has began slipping away.

“Goodnight, loser.” Clarke says, mumbling, pressing her sleepy lips further on Lexa’s ear. She flusters again, keeping her cool even after everything was out turns out to be a problem even now she’s facing. Actually, she’s facing away from the problem. The problem is holding her, holding her tightly around her waist. 

Her bed, with barely any space, has never been this comforting.

_Something like this, won’t pass by._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all thank you for the comments! They keep me writing, as weird as that sounds)  
> You know what this is building up to, or at least a vague idea of it, tell me what you think
> 
> commander-sexa.tumblr.com


	5. surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa wakes up on a casual Thursday. How casual can this really be if she had been spooned by Clarke for 5 hours?

 

Nothing beat showers at 6 in the morning and ‘KISS’ in 1981. 

Lexa still solidly believed ‘Music from the Elder’ was their best album. It failed in almost everything, but Lexa was so connected to the character of the music, it seemed like the only album she could enjoy. At this time of day. In this location only. Only with this cheap brand of wine she keeps in the corner of the shower along with the shampoo bottles.

She was slurping on it, carefully avoiding the shower water as she did. The chorus came on and she lost it.

“ _Now I, I believe in me. And I, I believe in something more than you can understand!_ ” she was singing too passionately, thinking Anya would sing a long from the other room, and she was too sleepy to realise she wasn’t backing her up. The fact was, Anya still wasn’t here.

But Clarke was.

Lexa was dancing around, her shirt and shorts soaked in wine stains and water, her hair in a lovely shower cap that she was awake enough to put on properly, apparently. It was more muscle memory than anything else. After the song finishes, Lexa leans on the side of her shower, her toes against the other wall, the bottle hanging from her fingers.

I takes another 10 seconds for the first chord to play of ‘The Oath’. The album was on repeat and she was just getting started. She smirks as she knows this is Anya’s favourite song and they’ll be screaming it in the mornings to pump it up in their stupid little dorm full of idiots and half-paying sport scholarship jerks. 

“Like a blade of a sword I am forged in flame… FIERY HOT!” 

She howls so loud she almost smashes her glass in passion. That is around when Clarke opens the door. 

“So. Figured out the heavy metal mystery after all this time” she says, hunched over and looking around at this strange scene. She was facing the shower, not looking over to who’s at the bathroom door.

“Anya shut the fuck upp and sing it bitch,” she grumbled with frustration as she continued to tap her foot to the beat “ _Your servant, I am and ever shall I be!”_ she pumps her fist high in the air.

Clarke would comment on how much of a bottom-line that is to Lexa but she isn’t close enough yet. Or they could be, they just shared eachother’s company in a bed. For five hours. Longer than she ever will be able to be around Lexa wouldn’t crumbling into frustrated, flirt-deprived soggy grape. Clarke flushes the toilet for the hell of it and bursts out laughing when Lexa makes high pitched sounds tapping out of the shower quickly.

Clarke keeps her eyes off Lexa’s black bra under her completely soaked sleeveless T-shirt. Lexa turns around to look in the mirror and Clarke could easily make out a large, patterned on her back. 

Lexa’s fingers find the buttons on the side of her mirror and pauses the music, glancing back at Clarke, her eyes half shut.

“I’m still an asshole, right, Clarke?” she says, anticipating something. Clarke nods in response. 

The grin on Lexa’s sleepy face is worrying.

She extends her arms and grabs onto Clarke’s back and presses her wet clothes all over Clarke as she starts shouting for help. She holds tightly for a couple of seconds, Clarke not being able to get out of her clench. Lexa releases, then takes off her shower hat and throws it in her face. Clarke shoots her a death glare that she actually runs away from.

She grabs a towel and puts it around herself, mounting Anya’s bunk, where she sits, safe from Clarke.

“Lexa. We’re adults” 

“You have Simba on your hoodie. Don’t talk about ‘adult’ with me.”

Clarke was surprised to how much of a grumpy confusing asshole Lexa was in the mornings. She’s childish and not completely aware of things and it was- cute. Lexa leans her head against the wall and smiles. The smile that was genuine, that wasn’t a cocky smile, it was childhood and comfort and it made Clarke feel light-headed.

Clarke would sleep more if it wasn’t for the risk that Lexa would shake off the water from her hair onto her face. Lexa’s smile was contagious, this little bit of childhood that they experienced will stay in this time and place, she doesn’t really know what she will use it for.

All she knows is that Lexa listens to the least successful KISS album and drinks wine in her bathroom at 6 am.She glanced in the corner of her eye, grabbed Lexa’s guitar and fiddled around with the strings for a bit. It wasn’t until she started touching the tuner, Lexa starts losing her patience and hops down from the top bunk. She gently takes the guitar away from her, like a toy being away from a child.

She sits down and crosses her legs. She tunes it back to what it was and starts placing her fingertips on the strings, fiddling around a bit to check the sound. She mumbled a little under her breath as she started to strum chords. Her voice was very soft, undeniably beautiful. It’s cute how she realises the situation midway through and started to giggle to herself while she continues the strumming pattern. Her hair, put up in a bun, bounces when she sways. 

They are vulnerable together for almost 6 hours now, and it doesn’t feel like before. Before it was about who would be the most vulnerable, who would let it happen faster. _Now, I guess we’re friends_ , Clarke couldn’t help but think. Lexa closes her eyes and lifts her chin up with pride, _she’s lighter than she ever will be_.

 

She flops down, her guitar on her chest, and closes her eyes. Before she speaks again, she hesitates. Awake. 

“I have class in fifteen minutes, Clarke, thank you for the lyrics” she swallows hard, because they need to come back to the real world. She doesn’t mention, _thank you for staying with me_ , but she doesn’t need to. All she ends up with was _if Clarke stays it will be distraction_. 

“You’re welcome… I’ll make the fantastic brew of instant coffee. Using your kettle. I wouldn’t want to wake Raven right now.” She replies, trudges towards the coffee corner. Technically speaking, she isn’t over sitting her stay. What Lexa said sounded fake to Clarke and she’s too stubborn to believe otherwise.

Lexa sighs, moves over to her closet, faces it and takes off her muscle shirt. Clarke takes a couple of steps back and almost spills the almost boiling electric kettle. Lexa’s back is covered in a pattern coming right up from her shorts line, her back dimples circled neatly and wings flying out of the rings. It was a tribal pattern, a similar on on her forearm. Clarke couldn’t make out the details when she was wearing the shirt but it was clear.

She blinks a couple of times when Lexa puts a bra on, her back muscular enough to flex as she stretches out her arms. Remembering thinking she was just a friend that she occasionally flirts with, not a piece of meat, she looks away. She hears her shorts drop.

There is a shiver down her neck.

The bubbles start to rumble and Clarke attempts to pour the water into mugs without her arms trembling. Lexa is almost naked, right behind her. Stupid heart, beating so hard for those you shouldn’t. She hears a camera click.

 

She turns around, Lexa, with a white vest and blue trousers, is tilted back, the lens aimed at her.

The camera continues clicking.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll need this, I’m an artist, Clarke.”

“For what exactly though?”

“Art” she puts down her camera and winks at her cheekily. She folds up her camera in a bag and leans on the wall next to the coffee desk, watching her coffee be prepared. Lexa thought too much about how Clarke was beautiful and good. And she was, absolutely. Golden heart and golden hair. Lexa doesn’t let herself feel it but she’s intrigued by it. Too much for it to be just called interest. Not too much to be called attract. _Words, like Costia_. It’s about what exactly it is. And for now, it’s instant coffee on a Thursday morning with a neighbour and a friend… _just a friend_ , she decides.

 

 

Clarke holds Lexa’s coffee and hands it to her. Their fingers graze and it feels like they weren’t just in eachother’s embrace for too long. Because it’s still there, whatever it is. The fascination of Lexa, her softness behind whatever she built around herself. Seeing Lexa today is as far as it’s been unwalled. The shock that flows through Clarke signals her that it’s building back up.

She neatly sips her coffee, smirking a little at the blonde “You should work with Miller.”

“The coffee dude? He’s a little too much of a pessimist for me” she said, her cup against her lip.

“And I’m not?”

“You’re a musician nerd, Lexa. You listen to shitty rock. The worst, may I say,-“

“That’s a matter of opinion. It is like my caffeine on Thursdays. Wednesdays are a bitch so I need this.”

She glances at her watch, and if she doesn’t leave now she’ll regret it for a while. She chugs down her rather hot coffee, which by now she’s kind of used to. Not knowing how to part with Clarke is too much of an awkward situation this early in the morning.

“Lock my door after your coffee, leave a note on the door that you have them. Anya needs to be informed. Again, thank you.” Before she can do anything, Clarke pulls her into a hug.

“No, thank _you_ ” and she kisses Lexa on the cheek. There was a threshold she’s kept of losing her cool, and it seems it was broken (More than it has already, that is).

Where her lips were placed is like a constant ache for the rest of the morning. Lexa’s fingers found themselves tracing upon the mark too many times.

 

—

“Clarke you didn’t tell me you were getting laid” 

“I wasn’t, I just kind of didn’t find my way back to the room.”

“It’s across the fucking hall.”

Clarke was an obvious liar. So was Raven, in a matter of ways. Not telling her best friend that her casual sex involves also cuddling and cooking for eachother in the mornings. But Clarke didn’t directly ask her. Now that Clarke is shagging the musician, she doesn’t confess.

She remembers waking up and seeing Clarke enter. She remembers waking up again, around 2 hours later, with Clarke still not here. Now’s she’s here with keys to Room 517 and a bed head like no other.

“At Octavia’s. You think we didn’t feel the fucking tension surrounding you two? And then you disappear into her room until 7 o’clock”

“You’re an idiot and I need to work.”

She takes off her hoodie and pulls over a loose jersey and put her hair up. Opening her laptop, she begins to type. And a little too much. Clarke would normally sit down and hit her head against the keyboard a little, call it an artist process and then eat some snacks and repeat the process. Not today, today, she was smiling. Smiling like she used to, when she used to play softball and chess.

She doesn’t mention that she looks too young again.

“Orgasms do give a lot of inspiration, Clarke proven.”

She doesn’t answer, she just smirks and continues to type. She hasn’t been like this for too long. Raven stands up and walks out the door, waving off at Clarke.

Walking towards the main hall, she spots Anya, her legs crossed surrounded by a couple of bags and two text books. She looks up. “Hey pretty, need something?” Anya says, flirty yet bothered. She’s a weird mix.

“Just wondering if you want your keys,” she says, lifting up a ring of keys and waving it up in front of her.

“Did Lexa shag _you_?” Anya replies, throwing her bags over her shoulder, the marks on her shoulders from carrying them still red and sore. Raven grabs one of her bags and swings it over her shoulder, picking up her text books. 

“No, not me… unfortunately,” Anya laughed, a little light for a bass player “My roommate, but she doesn’t want to admit it.”

“Oh so we’re the pair of roommates of those fucking idiots” Anya sticks in the key roughly, her bicep flexing as she does. It’s fairly impressive up close. “Seriously, the two of them are fucking disgusting.” Anya grumbles and pushes the door with her elbow. 

“I completely agree” Raven throws the bags onto the floor and places the textbooks on the bed “Umm…why are the floors wet?” She says as she kicks the puddle around a little.

“It’s Lexa’s Thursday routine. Also Clarke was apparently here.”

This feels less tense than the artist pricks they have as friends. They are melancholic, dramatic, oh and so in puppy love it’s hard to even shit it out. They, however, can laugh without being scared to inspire some new creation. Clarke’s head is in the sky. Raven is here, in this dorm with a pretty fit girl unpacking and smiling at her own snark.

And Clarke needs to be brought to reality. 

Lexa feels like another fuckboy in disguise. In terms of Clarke, this one is…too good to be true.

 

\--

Clarke meets with Octavia for lunch. They have Biochemistry together later, but Octavia’s head is barely ever in that mind set.

“Lincoln and I are on a break.”

“Oh okay… may I?”

“That’s so not cool. Plus, you have a girlfriend.” Octavia is one of the most attractive and hardcore people Clarke’s ever known. But she has no sense of boundaries. 

“She isn’t, and we aren’t going to talk about it. Plus, we’re not as bad as you and Raven.”

Raven and Octavia only met a couple months ago, orientation day here. They’ve been keep it very low on the radar but they’ve had unexplained locked bathroom time, body shots and even worse, Raven’s baking hobby. She cooks for Bellamy, but she bakes for his sister. 

“Our little situation is no news, maybe it would be for Bellamy…” Octavia grins, licking her lip slightly. “We’re friends, always have been.”

It was strange before, Octavia being younger than everyone on campus and Raven already 3 years in, but they just clicked. Octavia talks to Raven openly about her fantasies, without noticing how loudly she speaks in the main hall of the dorm. Raven nods along, fiddling with something but not taking her eyes off of Octavia. 

After her last christmas with Finn, Raven stayed with Octavia in a ski resort. Octavia, yet slightly immature, is what Raven needed to get away from the break-up. Clarke wouldn’t have helped. The high school drama still felt a little tense.Octavia’s “It must suck” was rather efficient.

Also, they go to the gym together. More often when neither of them are in relationships. Clarke will never find out what goes on there. The gym is a joke.

“You need to learn to use your heart more.” Octavia says, her head on her propped up arm.

“I need to use my heart less, Octavia. This whole thing is already getting out of hand. I have no romantic intention towards Lexa. Just like you don’t have any intention towards Raven. Deal?”

“I wont put away my lifestyle for you.”

“So you’re saying…”

“I still have feelings for Lincoln, last time I checked. But I’m not overcomplicating it like you are. I think you should lay it out before you. It’s much simpler than you think.”

Clarke scoffs. Octavia glares at her, waiting for some kind of response.

“Hey, loser. C’mon. Gimme something simple to work with” Octavia pokes around in her front tooth as she asks. She is not feeling very modest and polite today then.

“She drinks wine in the shower. Along with listening to really bad pretentious rock and it grosses me out”

“Grosses you out, how?” the smirk is slowly growing on her face.

“Like,” she begins and then falls backinto thought. It’s interesting and venerable and makes her want to grab another bottle and join her. She’d never stand it, most likely, unless it was in a bath. Lexa surrounded by bubbles with a perked eyebrow, a book and a glass of red. It’s charming. 

“Like.. Endearing. I’m grossed out because it’s dazzling with interest”

“There we go. Now go get an English major, Griffin.” She says as she stumps her palms on the table, beckoning Clarke to class.

 

—

Cheeks have never felt so soft. Lexa’s never really touched her face this many times in a day. 

It’s becoming ridiculous. Along with, Bellamy Blake in her phycology class (and that’s even more ridiculous).

He’s meant to be graduating but instead he’s in second year phycology?

His curls and freckles give away that he’s a country boy. Chilling with him before was entertaining, to say the least. She works for him, has mutual friends. But never too personal. 

They would never work as friends. As the professor left for a cigarette break about a minute ago, everyone goes about chatting about their personal phycological analysis or whatever.

Bellamy doesn’t really participate in the discussion, he just leans back and scribbles words in his little notebook. He’s oversized for his notebook that sits in his palm. It makes him seem even bigger. He sits a seat to the left of Lexa and they’ve barely ever spoken.

Today was strange, just like all the other days since meeting Clarke.

“Why are you always wet?” he asks, curious as a mountainous man can portray himself to be.

“I have a showering routine.”

“Does this mean you shower once a week?”

“That depends on the week.”

“But you said you had a routine?”

The Blakes were the bunch that always ended up messing with her. For no apparent reason, most of the time. They have weird aspirations and personalities that she hasn’t figured out yet. The frat boy that lives in the library on weekdays and takes every English course possible. The sky diver who picks a fight everywhere but at dances is the prom queen, watches girls build motorbikes and covers men with flower petals.

Both so insanely alike. 

“No matter of yours, Bellamy.”

“I’d like to know a cared-for acquaintance is getting herself involved in …one of my … cleaner co-workers.”

“Cared-for? You barely know her.”

“Defensive? I’m related to her through important people. Sister’s best friend and… best friend’s roommate.”

“An English major needs to know how to construct a sentence.”

Bellamy giggles a little, nodding. His curls fall upon his forehead as he goes back to scribbling words in his book. The cigarette behind his ear is half-smoked. Lexa can’t really tell she’s made a friend. 

—

It’s around 10 o’clock when Lexa enters her room, Anya is in her position.A pen in mouth, her hair loose and her lines of poetry laid out on the floor.

“How’s Gustus?” Lexa says as she drops her bag.

“Fine. Worried about you.”

Lexa nods. Anya must’ve already told him about her distraction. It isn’t a big deal, Anya just makes it out to be. “Nothing to worry about, just had her come over to help me with lyrics” 

“It’s worse than that, Heda, you’re afraid to admit it but you’re weakening. Keep away from anyone who can hurt you again”

Lexa knew Clarke was equal to her, even more dominant in a couple of matters. Not painful, it hasn’t been aching. It was something she wasn’t expecting. It’s beginning to puzzle up into something. Boil up into anger, but a pleasant soothing one, one that feels melodic.

It’s just art. Nothing else. 

“Art, Anya.”

“No, you know that is just as bad”

“Appreciate art, weak for harmony between the two. There’s a difference. Clarke and I don’t have harmony.”

The phrase ‘Clarke and I’ makes Anya roll her eyes. She turns back to her pages and the door handle makes a sound. Lexa fixes up her bird nest of a bun and opens the door.

Raven is leaned against the other side of the hall, looking forward at Clarke who’s hovering over the door frame. Lexa could feel the mint ice coffee as she opened her mouth to speak.

“I noticed you had no toothpaste in your bathroom” 

Lexa smiles, Raven and Anya both peak at eachother and then Raven grunts “Oh so you rub around in the shower now”

Clarke’s curls fall at her neck, directly to her obviously low tank top. She’s holding out an unopened tube of toothpaste out. Raven sighs and drifts herself back into their open door. Anya says something about getting a room and nudges Lexa out, leaving the two of them between.

In the corridor, just like many times before.

“Thank you for letting me stay the night before, you were pretty entertaining in the morning too so, I just suppose you deserve this gift” She glances at Lexa, maybe stopping at her lips, just before reaching out for Lexa’s hand to firmly place the tube in her palm.

She holds her hand there.

Lexa’s locked in her gaze and everything else is unimportant. 

Clarke feels Lexa’s hips press against her, pushing slightly towards the wall. The kiss is gentle, Lexa’s hand quickly finds Lexa’s nape as Clarke’s hands find themselves on her collar. It needs to be hot and messy, splattered all over these walls. 

When Clarke begins to pull her closer, Lexa bites her lip slowly, tugging just slightly yet _fuck_. It’s soft yet purposeful, parting her lips as a strategic move, and that’s when Clarke tilts slightly back, letting go.

Lexa is scared for a moment, lets go of Clarke’s neck. Clarke smirks “I didn’t say stop, Lexa.”

Clarke reaches for Lexa’s waist, digging her fingers gently into her back as she pushes her body back towards her, tilting her head in, her tongue slightly wondering around Lexa’s bottom lip. The teasing is always her strategy. It’s less gentle now, passionate, the halls empty but full of them. Shattering clarity.

Clarke pushes Lexa slightly back, raising her knee just slightly for Lexa to become alert, kissing back and furrowing her eyebrows as her heartbeat’s ridiculously fast. She stumbles and it makes Clarke giggle.

Her laugh is a bubble bath.

“This beats ‘Music From The Elder’, right?”

“Only if all this means we can duet from it.”

Even while being almost pinned against the corridor wall, Clarke’s leg in between hers, her fingers running up her waist, she still has consciousness to speak. By the looks of her face, you wouldn’t be able to tell.

The tube of toothpaste has been long dropped on the ground, Lexa reaches for it, glances at Clarke and moves away, “Goodnight, Clarke.” Shutting the door briefly behind her.

Clarke stands there for a moment. She feels a thrill again. But that isn’t good. Again. Bones and a beating heart with a cocky attitude and bright eyes. There’s no way out of this now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yo, i haven't updated much because tis the season. exams and finals (still not done actually). tell me what you think and if i should continue over the summer. 
> 
> also you can chat up on tumblr: commander-sexa
> 
> All the feedback you guys give inspires me, thank you thank thank <3

**Author's Note:**

> I need to know whether any of you actually want to continue reading, all comments and kudos appreciated <3
> 
> Come forth with discussion and comments to my tumblr is you wish  
> commander-sexa.tumblr.com


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